Get It Together
by dragonwriter1911o1
Summary: Alfred's the one person who can't seem to make himself stand out anymore than he already does. Which, to him, is a curse from hell. From a rocky past to a misunderstanding, isolated present, could his life, and specifically high school, get any worse? High School AU with lots of characters Multi chapter fic
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Too tired

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Alfred awoke cold. He attempted to pull his covers up and arms tight, only to find them damp, sticky, and entirely unbearable under so many layers. Sighing in resignation, without hesitation, he willed himself up and out of them. By now he was already cold, so there was no reason to stay in the warmth of his bed any longer. After rubbing his eyes, the blonde checked the cheap digital clock on his nightstand. The red 4:05 sent waves of dread throughout him and made his whole body droop already in exhaustion. Out of luck, and sleep, a warm shower seemed his best option at this point. Hopefully his tiredness would wash off along with the remnants of his reoccurring dream.

"Hey Alfred, I made pancakes if you want any!" a voice said, attempting to shout and barely reaching regular volume. Alfred himself barely heard, setting the last of his work and notebooks into his bag. Waking up so much earlier had left him groggy and forgetful; this was already the fifth time he had put those papers into the bag. Just after stuffing in his toothbrush.

"Comin' Mattie!" he called. Slinging the navy blue and ripping bag over his shoulder, he trudged downstairs and threw it beside the door to his right, across from Matthew's own red one. Entering the kitchen, he readjusted his glasses and drooled over the enormous stacks of breakfast food on the table. Piles of bright yellow eggs and round sausage patties took up the first dish. The next one held stacks of bacon and various fruit options, all carved with imperfections. Last was an enormous tower of fluffy flapjacks threatening to tip over the salt and pepper shakers and onto the wooden floor. He silently thanked god he was so lucky to have a brother good at cooking, even if most of it was for his father who would wake up much later for a gig at a construction firm.

"I think I made a bit too much," Matthew said, holding his pancake batter ladle timidly. Alfred brushed his remark aside with a flap of his hand, joyfully beaming that his brother was a morning person unlike himself and had an unhealthy knack for pancakes.

"It's cool bro, just means more for me!" he comforted him and immediately dug in, scooping mountains from every dish onto a much too small beige plate. Matthew hid a grin as he set the ladle down.

"Sorry the plates are so small, probably should have used the dinner ones considering your appetite, eh?" Matthew joked back. He undid the clatter of dishes and swiftly put them away before helping himself. His portions were considerably smaller; not including the pancakes. By the time both of them were done eating, half the food was gone. Glancing to the fruit and then meat, Matthew piped up delicately, "I made bacon and sausage because I couldn't remember which one you liked better." Alfred frowned but quickly enough replied,

"Aw thanks bro! But just so you know, it's gotta be bacon for sure! It's some sort of holy food, I'm telling ya, " he paused to take a bite. "Geez, I really missed your pancakes these past five years..," Alfred said fondly with his mouth full. Matthew stiffened slightly, only to hurriedly relaxed. Not noticing, Alfred grabbed the syrup and smothered everything with it in gobs. Just after placing it down, he squinted his eyes at the label. "Real Canadian syrup, huh. No wonder," and finished their quick exchange.

The following few minutes were spent in unbearable silence, only supplied with the clanking of their silverware and cups. You know, the kind of quietness when you're nervous and make your fork and plate clatter together and it really feels like you might have dropped a bomb; or maybe when you laugh as the whole room goes silent and the sound resounds along with your thoughts describing the gravity of your mistake. That kind of silence. Most days went like this. Matthew stood up slowly and unsurely.

"Well, I'm going to go now. I'll see you a little later tonight since I've got extra classes… Anyway, I think dad is making hamburgers."

"Awesome! Sounds cool bro, guess I'll see ya tonight!" Alfred said, leaving his brother to scamper out in a flash, taking his bag, polar bear charm and all, with him.

Watching the door slam shut, Alfred let out a breath of relief.

* * *

It's another Gakuen Hetalia type fic with my own twist (not my own characters sadly)

If some of the characters seem OOC, first let them ease in and start to reveal their personalities and reasons behind the weird acting

I'm planning on this being my first really, really long multi-chapter fic, so good luck to us all and if I'm not updating or the plot gets stupid or I change parts, respond nicely cause I'm just writing for fun

Thanks and happy reading


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: "Normal"

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Pausing in the doorway, he put in the first earbud and pressed play. Following the music, he quietly slipped in, leaving the door to close behind him with a soft click. Inside, laughter and the same similar classmates were crammed around chairs and tables in indiscernible groups. Blue and brown checkered uniforms meshed into a big mess of around, what was it, 50 kids? Today held the same old classmates in his same old rich kid school. No matter how much Matthew tried to argue about it, red carpeted floors, human-sized windows, and walls with gold or polished wood trim were not school norms. And no matter how hard he tried, he would never get used to it.

His backpack was held close, bomber jacket (obviously against dress code) pulled up and snug, body language indicating his very slim hope for going undiscovered. Earbud blasting, he was almost to the end of Bohemian Rhapsody, and getting away with doing just that, when his chair let out an awful squeal in after such a _gentle_ nudge. He quickly wished the god forsaken sound was just his imagination. Or that it ended with just that.

A spontaneous reaction set off like a bomb. All noise abruptly came to an end and all the chairs gave great screeches as everyone made it a point to create a canyon of space between Alfred and themselves. The racket made him clench his fists hard and white while his presence altered the room's atmosphere. It grew silent, still, and worst of all, for no matter how hard he tried, the room now had its prying eyes only on Alfred. He settled for a puff of annoyance and threw himself into the island of a chair.

It was not that he noticed the change, really. Nor did he notice the new foot of empty space between him and the few desks surrounding him. No, that wasn't important. It wasn't cruel or new… it was just normal. He could do nothing to change how disdainful and fearful those stares were. How familiar those sort of eyes being made at him were. All in all, it just caused him to be sick to his stomach in frustration.

His brother didn't know how damn lucky he was with that invisibility of his; no matter what he had to say about it.

Sometimes he wondered when walking into the room with a dumb grin and remark had been as normal as this awful isolation. Then he thought just how long ago his old normal had changed into _this_ hell.

But most of the time he didn't have it in him to be so reminiscent or negative. Instead, Alfred turned up the volume on Purple Haze, wishing, emptily, today the whispers wouldn't be so loud.

"- _Look, he's got more cuts-"_

 _"-probably sent someone to the hospital-"_

 _"-God, what's trash like him doing in_ -"

The whispers never ended, so by now, he had stopped listening.

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Little short chapter for everyone


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Where bugs go to die

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Everyone knows that the back middle, where Alfred sat, was only useful for two things: finding dead bugs or keeping at arms (or many arms) length away the odd ones out.

Sure he had gotten some new bruises, but how would anyone any of them know where or how? He doubted anyone would believe him if he brought it up, but still, he was getting tired of this thick and accusing air. It was suffocating all day long, five days a week no matter what he tried to tell himself. Every intentional action -the grating of the chairs as he entered, the gossip, all the gossip- sent him sinking farther into that dark place. Retreating further back into his own mind, barely able to comprehend people could be anything but assuming.

He wouldn't call it depression. Not yet at least, but it was starting to run out of the reaches of his own threshold, hanging close to that border.

Looking around, an irritated smile plastered itself into place as few late students didn't even try to cover the action of sitting farthest away from him.

 _Real nice guys. You're not even trying to pretend anymore._

Under his breath, he mentioned "The hero is not some disease." The words were hard to swallow even as he said them to himself. They lumped up in his throat just before settling down with a bitter trace.

It couldn't have been his fault he had had the worst of luck that first day. And now? Now, because of a single day, Alfred was stuck in this hellhole surrounded by the uppity snobs of this rich kids school.

Never would he have imagined not having a single friend. He was _the_ friend in junior high. Just where had the time gone?

 _Jesus, I sound old. I need to talk to someone before I'm stuck sounding like an old man forever._

Alfred tapped his pencil, absentmindedly, then in indignation following a few sent anxious glances his way. Their obviousness was painful! _Truly_ painful to watch. He was just tapping a pencil for christ's sake!

Flinching after it broke, Alfred just quietly let out a mocking laugh, taking out a new number two pencil. In some sardonic way, he couldn't blame them.

Who would ever dare to mess with the most infamous, stoic, and brutal delinquent at Heta High?

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Fun chap ya know?


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